


Every Dog Has Its Day (Mine Have Several)

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Baby Animals, Breaking Up & Making Up, Castiel and Dean Winchester Being Idiots, Castiel and Dean Winchester Fight, Castiel and Dogs, Dean Has Allergies, Dean and Dogs, Dogs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Walking, Walks In The Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as Cas is about to pick up the remnants of his black Reeboks, one swift tug on his arm has him flying in the opposite direction like a sledder losing control of his Huskies. Before he knows it, he’s face-to-face with someone Gotye should write a song about.</p><p>It’s been months.<br/>3 months, 10 days, and 4 hours, to be exact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Dog Has Its Day (Mine Have Several)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this prompt: http://thehalcyonclubwritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/132518177311/post-breakup-aus
> 
> Featured on: http://onetruepairingideas.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> “well this is really awkward considering the last time we saw each other, i was screaming at you to never talk to me again, but like, my dog recognized you all the way across the park and literally dragged me over here because she misses you so hi” AU
> 
> And, as you can tell, I couldn't give Cas just one dog. I mean, c'mon, it's Cas.

It’s a day like any other—

Scratch that, it’s a _better_ day.

The sun is casting Beautiful Rays of Light on Pay-Per-View the way it spills over the grass and into the riverbank, highlighting the ripples from ducks and beavers that’ve heaved their way onto the shore with the small pitter-patter of their feet. There’s a light wind carrying the faintest hint of pollen, but it does nothing more than tickle the nose and sprinkle the occasional car window, which, even then, is a sight to marvel: It’s like faerie protection.

Castiel saunters through the scene accompanied by six of his companions: Thaddeus, Oren, Jonah, Tyrus, Purah, and Esther. No, they’re not angels—though they can easily be mistaken—they’re dogs; puppies to be exact. He only intended to buy one, but the owner, Naomi, had amazingly told this sob story of how they’d all been separated at birth and were finally in the same kennel before she was informed she was facing foreclosure on her farmhouse, and, well, Castiel wasn’t breaking the bank buying _one,_ so why not buy all six and help the poor woman out, right?

Animals probably shouldn’t have this much jurisdiction over his life, but if anyone with a beating heart had seen their beady little eyes and those multi-colored snouts smothered by a muzzle, their wallets would’ve turned over too.

Besides, who needs shoes, anyway? It’s not like they’re great for the environment to begin with. Technically, puppies are doing the world a favor.

Just as Cas is about to pick up the remnants of his black _Reeboks_ , one swift tug on his arm has him flying in the opposite direction like a sledder losing control of his Huskies. Before he knows it, he’s face-to-face with someone Gotye should write a song about.

“Dean?” he breathes, one part shock, two parts trying to catch his breath.

It’s been months.

3 months, 10 days, and 4 hours, to be exact.

Dean, with eyes green enough to steal the attention from the scenery and lashes long enough to actually sweep away any other beautiful distractions flicker to Cas’s sapphire ones. His long, slender hands remain faithful to the balls of fur surrounding him. “Cas?” he laughs nervously before clearing his throat. “I see you got yourself more than one housewarming gift.”

"Funny how they flock to you when you're the one who didn't even want them." Cas doesn’t know where that comes from, but it’s nothing short of the truth.

"They say dogs can sense when you're sick."

Cas warns himself not to go there— _begs_ , but there’s something about proving someone wrong, not once, but twice that’s more gratifying. "You're seriously bringing that up again?” he protests, crossing is arms with a scoff. “I mean, really, Dean, like you actually have a—”

Before Cas can get another word in, a rapid-fire machine gun of sneezes assaults the afternoon air.

 

 _"If you don't want to adopt dogs, how do you expect me to believe you want kids one day? How do you expect me to believe you want_ me _?"_

Of course, this only makes the puppies whine like they've never seen the outside of a kennel and pile football-style on the others to get to Dean.

 

_"Maybe you're right."_

_Cas's heart backpedals until it hits a fire hydrant. "What?"_

Dean, goddamn him, chuckles through a thick, snot-laced sniffle and continues to eagerly pet the Leaning Tower of Texas Heelers.

"Oh my God,” breathes Cas. With shaking arms, his hands come up to blanket his ocean of a mouth, as if another tidal wave could heave onto the shore and sweep everything out from underneath him—like the sand pooling around his ankles hasn’t already saddled his feet and pulled him back a dozen times since they last spoke.

Like Cas hasn’t prayed for the saltwater to swallow him whole.

Dean’s calling out to him on a boat a hundred yards from shore, “Cas?” When he doesn’t reply, Dean sets his five-pronged anchor on Cas’s shoulder. “Cas, are you okay?”

“This whole time,” Cas says. “This whole time I thought you had some-some vendetta against the animal kingdom—against _me_ —and you were just being honest.”

“Cas—”

“We broke up because I wanted a pet.”

Dean’s hand doesn’t move. In fact, it clenches tighter. “Cas—”

“We broke up because _I_ _wanted a pet,”_ Cas reiterates. “I put a four-legged piss machine before you.”

“Six, actually,” Dean says, laughing at the quizzed-looking pups beneath their feet, “but they _are_ pretty cute. And Cas, you gotta take a load off, Annie. It takes two to screw up hardcore. You remember what I said to you before you took off?”

 

_Dean’s eyes flitter to Cas’s. “You’re right. Maybe I don't want you."_

Cas shivers, feeling the icecaps in his chest crack like the Antarctic, “You didn’t mean that, though—”

“Neither did you,” Dean emphasizes. “That’s what I’m trying to say, baby. Do you honestly believe for a second either of us meant anything we said in the heat of the moment? I know I didn’t.” He pauses, sniffling for an entirely different reason. “ _God,_ I didn’t. I was selfish and rude and too afraid to approach you after that night. I mean, how could you ask for someone’s forgiveness after—?”

 “Wait,” Cas interjects. “Did you just call me baby? Does that mean—?”

 “That everything I said after that was a complete waste of breath and that I still want you?” Dean chuckles as a single tear slides down his cheek. “Yes. _God yes_ , Cas. I’ll do anything. I’ll die of a Benadryl overdose if I have to.”

 A laugh bobs in Cas’s throat too, “Calm down, Romeo, your Juliet is still kicking.”

 “But doth she still covet thy lover’s dick?”

“She doth—dothes? Dothest?” Cas tests with a cheeky smile. “I failed Early Modern English.”

Dean chuckles, “No shit, I was your _tutor._ You always used to get distracted by the smallest things.”

“The bees, Dean,” Cas says, wagging a warning finger, “respect the bees.”

“Just so you know, I wasn’t surprised when you switched majors. Ecology and Conservation Biology requires _zero_ English.”

“Please, you’re just bitter because you don’t get to tutor me anymore.”

Dean shrugs with the mischievous of grins, snapping a twig like a freshly unwrapped KitKat beneath his feet as he braces a step forward. (Well, as far as he can _get,_ anyway, with half a dozen puppies swarming around Cas’s feet.) He still smells like Cas remembers: a fine mix of car oil and musk. “You can’t say we don’t have some _very_ educational after school specials, though.”

Cas has to grin too, because Dean’s within seconds of snatching his lips. “Not lately, though.”

“I think we can fix that,” Dean replies, slotting their mouths in a sweet, slightly wet, but succulent kiss. Just before things can get heated, however, Thaddeus (or is that Oren?) yaps above the rest of the pups, clawing into Castiel’s slacks like a child latching onto a father’s leg, causing the other five to pipe up in agreeance to whatever he’s saying. Dean laughs, “Little cockblockers.”

“I dunno, they _did_ just get me some today,” Cas points out. Dean growls.

“You bet they did.”

 

 

 


End file.
